Chapter 1
Beatrice's POV
“Mr. Beauregard, please stand.”
I hold my breath and lean forward in my seat, my eyes glued to the people showcased before me.
“After considering the evidence presented in the case, the testimonies of the victim’s families, and the arguments presented by both the defense and prosecution, you have been found guilty for the crime of human trafficking, not one, but many young girls. This crime is particularly heinous, as it exploits and dehumanizes individuals for personal gain, causing immeasurable harm to the victims and society as a whole. In light of this, the court hereby sentences you to 30 years in prison.”
I release the breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. I look down at Bentley’s hand, which is securely clasped in my own, and then look up to find him already gazing at me with a reassuring smile.
Looking into his eyes, I can’t help but fall. It’s reassuring to have someone on your side to calm your nerves.
“You will not be eligible for parole until you have served at least 85% of your sentence. Additionally, you are ordered to pay restitution to the victims and their families in the amount of $3,500,000, to help cover the psychological treatment and emotional distress, as well as other related expenses. This sentence is in accordance with the guidelines set forth by our state laws on human trafficking and is intended to reflect the serious nature of your crimes and to serve as a deterrent to others who might consider engaging in similar criminal activities. You have the right to appeal the sentence within 30 days. Court is adjourned.”
The hammer slamming onto the podium ends today’s trial, and Bentley immediately stands to leave.
Cash strolls over with his hands tucked in his suit pockets. He’s the only one of us who bothered to dress up, since he represented the victims with a senior attorney to supervise him.
He was amazing. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him so serious. His voice boomed across the courtroom with his conviction to seek justice for all the victims. As it turns out, Beatrice and Macy weren’t the only ones. After the cops raided the mayor’s home, there were more records in his office that hinted at their close relationship with the St. Catherine’s church. This proves that the Beauregards have been dabbling in human trafficking for years.
“Well, another one down, one more to go,” he says as he tilts his head in a certain direction.
I turn to look to see Jason getting ready to leave the room. His bruised face is set, and despite the many scornful glances thrown at him, he keeps his head held high with that familiar scornful look in his eyes.
I frown.
He’s the same as always.
“Let’s go,” Bentley says, grabbing my hand and tugging us towards the door. “How’s the chances for Jason looking?”
Cash shrugs. “Not good. If he doesn’t get at least 20 years in prison, I’ll drop out of school.”
“Be serious,” Jack tries to hit his brother, but Cash quickly moves out of the way.
“I am!” Cash refutes.
I smile and lean into Bentley to whisper. “Did you enjoy the outcome?”
He glances down at me and purses his lips. I pause my teasing, taking note of the apprehension in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He sighs. “I’m just worried. What if she really is still alive out there? How much is she suffering right now?”
I squeeze his hand. “Don’t dwell on the what-ifs. Just know that there are private investigators of the highest caliber out there, right now, looking to bring her home. We’ll find her alive. We’ll find both of them alive.”
Of course. I’m also anxious when I think about my birth mother. Where is she now? What happened to her? Is she okay? Is she... dead? Will I ever get to meet her?
I think about it all the time. I think of the what-ifs and what happens when, but Bentley is always there to tug me out of those thoughts when they get bad. I want to do the same for him.
“C’mon,” I tug his hand. “Let’s go home.”
“I feel so single.” Cash grumbles.
Bentley glances lazily at his brother. “Didn’t I see a woman sneaking out of the house early this morning?”
“...”
I glance between the two with a mischievous grin. “Well, someone’s been having fun.”
Cash winks at me. “I never said being single was a bad thing.”
“You’re single with an able body.” I hide my laugh behind my hand.
“You get it!” He raises his hand for a high five, but Bentley quickly intercepts and pulls me out of reach.
“You’re a bunch of kids.” Jack shakes his head and pushes ahead of us.
Bentley glares at Cash. “You’re a terrible influence.”
That’s rich coming from the guy I get all my experience from.
Cash cackles. “Don’t hate me ’cause I’m cooler. Right, Bea?”
I shake my head and don’t answer. There’s no reason to feed into their little banter.
“Bea!” Someone calls my name, and we turn to see Mary speedily walking towards us from the courtroom. She has a big bag thrown over her shoulder.
I furrow my brows.
“You were here the whole time? Where’s Isiah?” I ask, looking behind her for the slow-moving old man.
She waves a dismissive hand and rummages through her bag. “I left that sack of bones at home watching TV. I don’t have your contact, so I came to see the verdict myself. I wanted to give you this.”
She pulls a box out of her bag. I recognize it instantly.
“That’s Be- mom’s box,” I mumble as I take it and open it to see the clothing and knitting equipment resting inside.
Mary smiles. “I figured you’d want it, to remember her by. Who knows? Maybe you’ll also get into knitting. It was one of her favorite pastimes. Sadly, you didn’t get to wear anything that she knitted, but hopefully, in the future, when we find her, both of you can knit something together.”
I look down at the box with conflicted emotions. I don’t know if I should be happy or sad.
“Thank you,” I smile softly at Mary. It’s the only words my mind can process right now. “I’ll treasure them.”
I hug the box to my chest.
“I’m happy that you’re curious about Beatrice. I’ve felt like, besides Isiah and me, everyone’s forgotten about her.” Her glossy eyes gaze at me with a complicated expression. “Can you keep in touch? I know it’s a hard ask, but... we missed so much. He doesn’t show it, but Isiah wants to get to know you and your other siblings, if possible. We want to be in your lives.”
She nervously fiddles with her fingers and averts her eyes. “I know your mom wants nothing to do with us, but if you can convi-”
“I won’t.”
She flinches and deflates. “Oh... I understand. I didn’t mea-”
I cut her off. “I can visit you when I have the time. I don’t have a cell right now, but I should get my first paycheck soon, and I’ll buy one. I can’t speak for Kyle, but I can bring Bazel along with me.”
Her eyes glisten as her lips tremble. The raw emotions in her face burn my chest, and I clutch the box harder to keep myself from reaching out and hugging her. She must have so many grievances.
All because my mother denied her access to her grandkids.
I frown. “I can’t convince my mom to do anything she doesn’t want to do. I know her, and I know it’s eating away at her every time she sees you. She knows she’s wrong, but her pride won’t let her admit it.”
Mary sighs and shakes her head. “That unruly girl. She’s Isiah’s daughter, alright. I don’t know what to do.”
“Leave her alone. She’ll come around, eventually. I promise.”
If she doesn’t, I’ll grab her by her roots and drag her to their doorstep myself. No matter what, we’re family and we need to let go of our grudges if we want to move on with our lives.
“Thank you.” She wipes at a stray tear.
I smile reassuringly. “There’s no need for that. We’re family.”
Bentley places a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to look at him. “We’ll go wait by the car.” He says.
“Oh! Am I holding you up? Please, don’t mind me. I have to get back to make sure that man isn’t doing something he shouldn’t. Like mowing the lawn, knowing his legs are no damn good.” She grumbles at the end, causing me to chuckle.
“I’ll visit soon,” I promise.
She nods. “We’ll be looking forward to it.”
We say our goodbyes and leave the building. On our way out, we almost run into Jason, but Bentley quickly steers me away while glaring at the man.
We hop into the car, and I hug the box even tighter to my chest. These are the first and last things my mother ever made for me.
I didn’t lie when I said that I’d treasure them. If there’s a time in the future when I ever get a child, I’ll make sure to give them the clothes that I never got to wear.
Sarah’s POV
I place the plate down in front of the shivering child and smile. “Here sweetie, eat this.”
The child cowers away at the sound of my voice, and my heart winces. I look over at the girl curled on the bottom half of the bunk bed. “Pebble, can you come here, please?”
Pebble shifts and turns to face me. I take one look at the bruise under her eye and wince. “Did the last client do that?”
She nods and slowly eases herself off the bed. “Sister, when are we going to leave this place?” Her voice is small, weathered down by the years of abuse since she first arrived in the cathedral three years ago. She’s 17 now, yet her body is that of a 12-year-old due to the lack of nourishment.
I open my mouth just to close it. There’s no answer to her question. I hear it every day, and despite my promises to get them out of this place one day, that day isn’t anytime soon. I’m still as powerless as I was 18 years ago.
I sigh and choose to be honest. “I don’t know. Can you help me feed this little one? She needs to eat before the men come back.” I gesture to the little girl cowering away from the plate of food I offered.
She’s 14, one of the newest girls who arrived last week. I’m in charge of getting her used to this place, despite wanting desperately to get her out before the innocence in her eyes goes away.
Pebble walks stiffly towards me and I glimpse the blood trickling down her thigh. She’s in nothing but a T-shirt, the only thing they allow these poor girls to wear down here.
I turn my head away and clear my throat, trying to avoid the tears wanting to make an appearance. I can never get used to this. I was in their place not too long ago.
Pebble comes and calms the child enough that she starts eating, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
The masters don’t like it when the girls refuse to eat. As a result, they get punished. I’m glad Pebble is here to calm her nerves. I can’t connect to the girls like she can. At least, not anymore. Because of my position, they see me as one of their tormentors and I hate myself for it.
“Have you thought of a name for her yet?” Pebble asks.
I shake my head and purse my lips. “I haven’t had the time.”
“I have a name,” the child mutters, shrinking into herself when I turn to look at her.
My eyes soften. “I know, angel, but that name cannot be used here. The masters refer to us by the numbers on our wrists.” I move my sleeve so she can see the number 56 on my wrist. “But in here, we give each other names, so we can feel more connected.”
Pebble nods in agreement and shows her number to the child.
The child looks at her wrist, that’s still in the process of healing from the brand. Tears start sliding down her cheeks as she cries.
I step forward to comfort her, but the door opening behind me halts me in my tracks.
I whip around to see Sister Debra peering into the room. Our eyes meet and she purses her lips. “Sister Sarah, the pastor wishes to see you in his office.”
My heart drops, and I nod.
Is it that time already?
I look at the girls and smile. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry, you’re all done for the day.” I reassure Pebble, before turning and leaving the room, locking it behind me.
I quickly climb the basement stairs before going into the pastor’s office.
He’s not here yet.
I gaze around and bite my lip before my eyes consciously look toward the landline sitting on his desk.
My hands twitch.
I probably don’t have much time.
I take another glance at the door before hurriedly picking up the phone. I dial the familiar numbers with trembling hands and place the phone to my ear as it rings.
It rings until it goes to voicemail.
No one is answering.
My heart leaps into my throat as I dial the number again.
It goes to voicemail.
“Damnit,” I mumble in frustration, placing down the phone just as the door to the office opens.
I whip around and use my body to hide the phone.
Pastor walks in with his Bible clasped under his arm.
I smile as cheerfully as I can and purr. “Good evening, pastor Benjamin.”
He takes one look at me, who’s dressed in a habit, and starts rolling up his sleeve. “Take them off.”
I inhale sharply and close my eyes as my hands reach for the loose fabric drowning my body.
It’s okay.
You’ve done this many times before.
You’re okay.
One day, everything is going to end, and when that time comes, I’ll finally see her again.
